Short, sweet, and to the point.
.
Title: Slogans
Fandom: X/1999
Characters: Dragons of Heaven
Words: 900
Rating: Sorata has no shame. Well, about some things at least.
Excuse: So the other day I was wearing a T-shirt that read "Spectroscopists do it with frequency and intensity"...
Summary: Sorata accepts a thank-you gift (or seven) from a custom T-shirt salesman. His reads,
Slogans
x/1999
Crack. Seriously.
“And that’s how I got it,” Sorata concludes, pointing boldly at his shirt. It reads, in vermilion on gold, Buddhist Monks do it according to centuries-old traditions.
“Right,” says Kamui after a pause.
“And he got them for just about everybody!” Yuzuriha chirps, and clasps her hands behind her back to show hers off. Middle-school girls do it and never get caught. “To thank us for saving his shop too. Isn’t it so cool? He says he’ll keep our secret and everything! And it’s team spirit without telling everyone what’s going on!”
A blood vessel bursts somewhere in Kamui’s temple, he swears.
“So yeah,” Sorata says, “yours,” and extends him a brown-paper parcel. “He didn’t get the joke, but I knew you would. C’mon, open it!” he adds when it becomes apparent that Kamui’s not going to just yet.
He could blow up the mansion. He really could.
But it’s probably better to just do what Sorata’s grin and Yuzuriha’s big kiddish eyes are demanding, just get it out of the way and wait until they find some other way to pretend it’s not the end of the world. So Kamui tears into the paper, lets it fall to the carpet, and shakes out the shirt.
Kamui do it and the whole world hears, it reads, in black on red.
“Fuck you,” says Kamui.
Sorata rejoices, pumps his fist in the air. “Ha! I knew you’d get the joke!”
-
Sorata’s smile could sap all the fluorescence of Tokyo and still have room to conquer the stars.
“I really hope you like it, Missy!” he’s saying, grinning at the same time.
Resignedly Arashi unties the string and unfolds the paper, then the shirt itself. The fabric is a very tasteful green and-
And.
Well then.
Shrine Maidens do it with cute Buddhist Monks, it reads. Please?
Arashi simply folds it back up and nestles it back into the package.
“Aw, c’mon, Missy, it’s just a-well, it’s not really a joke, but it’s all in fun-”
-
“Yours was kinda difficult to figure out,” Sorata is saying, rubbing the heel of his hand on the back of his neck in that awkward parody of modesty. “And after we thought about it for like half an hour, we ended up settling on Onmyouji do it by imperial decree-”
“I already have a shirt like that, Arisugawa-san,” Subaru sighs. “Sorry.”
“-You do?” Sorata blinks, comes through the door. “Aw, and we had so much trouble coming up with yours.”
Yuzuriha pipes in, “Can we see?”
There’s no sense in telling them no, so Subaru steps back, doesn’t gesture for them to come in and doesn’t wait for them to actually get their shoes off. He’s rifled through the bottom drawer of his dresser and found the damned thing by the time Yuzuriha and Sorata are over his shoulder again, and so he straightens out, unfolds it over his torso. It’s black with white letters, the same font as the rest-Sorata’s proud that he picked the right color combination.
Onmyouji do it with their reflections. Exclusively. Hands off. He’s mine.
“Anniversary present,” Subaru explains.
“Oh, cool!” Yuzuriha claps her hands and bows sideways. “Which anniversary? What’d you do for it?”
“…I’m not sure it’s prudent to tell you,” Subaru admits. “Or legal, actually.”
“Well,” Sorata says, shrugging, “talk is cheap-”
“Then keep the new shirt,” Subaru says, “I’m taking no payment.” And maybe he holds the shirt a little tighter, or his knuckles are just that pale.
-
“Tadaima!”
”Okaeri,” Shimako says-not too loudly, though, he’s home pretty late and Keiko must be asleep-and comes to the door to help him hang up his overcoat. “Oh, what’s in the parcel?”
“A colleague gave a few gifts around,” Seiichirou answers truthfully. He feels that horrible pang of not telling his wife the whole truth, but hides it under a smile and the sound of house shoes sliding on. “Let’s open it together in the living room?”
They do, after a bit more small talk. Keiko’s feeling much better, Seiichirou’s relieved to hear it, and of course he’ll be home for supper tomorrow, the manuscript’s out of his hands now and so are the ties on the parcel-
Publishers do it on deadlines, the T-shirt reads in light blue on darker blue.
“Oh do they now?” Shimako asks him leadingly.
-
“I can’t wear this at work, you know,” Karen says.
“What about after? You know, in the dressing room? I bet the other ladies’ll get a kick out of it.”
“True, true. And good job matching it to my coat,” she adds, running a hand along the bright red cotton. “But it’s false advertising.”
Sorata stammers. “False-false advertising?”
Karen smiles. “Mhm. We’re only legally allowed to perform oral sex.”
“-Ah,” Sorata says. “Maybe I should’ve saved that slogan for Subaru-san. After all, his entire clan is on-call 24-7…”
---
-
Title: Slogans
Fandom: X/1999
Characters: Dragons of Heaven
Words: 900
Rating: Sorata has no shame. Well, about some things at least.
Excuse: So the other day I was wearing a T-shirt that read "Spectroscopists do it with frequency and intensity"...
Summary: Sorata accepts a thank-you gift (or seven) from a custom T-shirt salesman. His reads,
Slogans
x/1999
Crack. Seriously.
“And that’s how I got it,” Sorata concludes, pointing boldly at his shirt. It reads, in vermilion on gold, Buddhist Monks do it according to centuries-old traditions.
“Right,” says Kamui after a pause.
“And he got them for just about everybody!” Yuzuriha chirps, and clasps her hands behind her back to show hers off. Middle-school girls do it and never get caught. “To thank us for saving his shop too. Isn’t it so cool? He says he’ll keep our secret and everything! And it’s team spirit without telling everyone what’s going on!”
A blood vessel bursts somewhere in Kamui’s temple, he swears.
“So yeah,” Sorata says, “yours,” and extends him a brown-paper parcel. “He didn’t get the joke, but I knew you would. C’mon, open it!” he adds when it becomes apparent that Kamui’s not going to just yet.
He could blow up the mansion. He really could.
But it’s probably better to just do what Sorata’s grin and Yuzuriha’s big kiddish eyes are demanding, just get it out of the way and wait until they find some other way to pretend it’s not the end of the world. So Kamui tears into the paper, lets it fall to the carpet, and shakes out the shirt.
Kamui do it and the whole world hears, it reads, in black on red.
“Fuck you,” says Kamui.
Sorata rejoices, pumps his fist in the air. “Ha! I knew you’d get the joke!”
-
Sorata’s smile could sap all the fluorescence of Tokyo and still have room to conquer the stars.
“I really hope you like it, Missy!” he’s saying, grinning at the same time.
Resignedly Arashi unties the string and unfolds the paper, then the shirt itself. The fabric is a very tasteful green and-
And.
Well then.
Shrine Maidens do it with cute Buddhist Monks, it reads. Please?
Arashi simply folds it back up and nestles it back into the package.
“Aw, c’mon, Missy, it’s just a-well, it’s not really a joke, but it’s all in fun-”
-
“Yours was kinda difficult to figure out,” Sorata is saying, rubbing the heel of his hand on the back of his neck in that awkward parody of modesty. “And after we thought about it for like half an hour, we ended up settling on Onmyouji do it by imperial decree-”
“I already have a shirt like that, Arisugawa-san,” Subaru sighs. “Sorry.”
“-You do?” Sorata blinks, comes through the door. “Aw, and we had so much trouble coming up with yours.”
Yuzuriha pipes in, “Can we see?”
There’s no sense in telling them no, so Subaru steps back, doesn’t gesture for them to come in and doesn’t wait for them to actually get their shoes off. He’s rifled through the bottom drawer of his dresser and found the damned thing by the time Yuzuriha and Sorata are over his shoulder again, and so he straightens out, unfolds it over his torso. It’s black with white letters, the same font as the rest-Sorata’s proud that he picked the right color combination.
Onmyouji do it with their reflections. Exclusively. Hands off. He’s mine.
“Anniversary present,” Subaru explains.
“Oh, cool!” Yuzuriha claps her hands and bows sideways. “Which anniversary? What’d you do for it?”
“…I’m not sure it’s prudent to tell you,” Subaru admits. “Or legal, actually.”
“Well,” Sorata says, shrugging, “talk is cheap-”
“Then keep the new shirt,” Subaru says, “I’m taking no payment.” And maybe he holds the shirt a little tighter, or his knuckles are just that pale.
-
“Tadaima!”
”Okaeri,” Shimako says-not too loudly, though, he’s home pretty late and Keiko must be asleep-and comes to the door to help him hang up his overcoat. “Oh, what’s in the parcel?”
“A colleague gave a few gifts around,” Seiichirou answers truthfully. He feels that horrible pang of not telling his wife the whole truth, but hides it under a smile and the sound of house shoes sliding on. “Let’s open it together in the living room?”
They do, after a bit more small talk. Keiko’s feeling much better, Seiichirou’s relieved to hear it, and of course he’ll be home for supper tomorrow, the manuscript’s out of his hands now and so are the ties on the parcel-
Publishers do it on deadlines, the T-shirt reads in light blue on darker blue.
“Oh do they now?” Shimako asks him leadingly.
-
“I can’t wear this at work, you know,” Karen says.
“What about after? You know, in the dressing room? I bet the other ladies’ll get a kick out of it.”
“True, true. And good job matching it to my coat,” she adds, running a hand along the bright red cotton. “But it’s false advertising.”
Sorata stammers. “False-false advertising?”
Karen smiles. “Mhm. We’re only legally allowed to perform oral sex.”
“-Ah,” Sorata says. “Maybe I should’ve saved that slogan for Subaru-san. After all, his entire clan is on-call 24-7…”
---
-